


A Thin Line

by akelios



Category: Criminal Minds, Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Crossover, Dresden Files Kink Meme, Gen, Pyromania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akelios/pseuds/akelios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rudolph watched the men and women file into the station. There was something about them, something sleek and confident and watching that just screamed Fed. These were not people who could do undercover work. They were too wrapped up in their own heads, in the intricacies of the mind to pay attention to blending in.</p>
<p>They went straight into Stallings' office and shut the door behind themselves. Rudolph grinned, happier than a pig in shit. The Freak was finally going to get what he deserved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thin Line

Rudolph watched the men and women file into the station. There was something about them, something sleek and confident and watching that just screamed Fed. These were not people who could do undercover work. They were too wrapped up in their own heads, in the intricacies of the mind to pay attention to blending in.

They went straight into Stallings' office and shut the door behind themselves. Rudolph grinned, happier than a pig in shit. The Freak was finally going to get what he deserved.

~

"Don't bother." The landlady stood in the doorway, not entering the apartment as they'd requested. Reid clicked the light switch anyway and nothing happened. "Told ya. He doesn't have any lights and he took the bulbs out of the ones in the ceiling. You're gonna have to open the shades or something. He's moving out next week anyway."

"Thanks, ma'am. We'll come see you when we're done in here." Morgan smiled and gently shut the door in her face.

"No electric lights. No tv. No radio." Spencer moved into the living room, lifting books off of the shelves, examining the titles. It was all very sparse. Fitting for someone who had just moved in a month ago. What little furniture there was was clearly second hand, but well cared for. The coffee table's wood practically glowed it was so highly polished.

"He doesn't even have a refrigerator. It's an ice box. With ice." Morgan stuck his head back out of the kitchen. "The gas line to the stove's been shut off too. Technophobe?"

"He drives a car. He lives in a major city. He has a telephone."

"Oldest damn phone I've ever seen, Reid."

"If he was technophobic, he'd be living as far away from modern technology as he could. He wouldn't have a phone. Or a car."

"Only if it was severe. Reports say he doesn't even like being in the same room with an active computer. Used to make his contact at SI turn hers off and unplug it before he'd come in. Maybe his problem is only with the more modern and advanced tech. It'd explain the antique phone and the car."

~

"Mr. Dresden. Do you know why we asked you to come down here?"

"You guys lost something and want to hire me to find it?" Rossi studied the tall man across the table from him. He was thin, but without the long coat he'd been wearing it was obvious that he was all lean muscle. There was some scarring, especially on his left hand. It looked like it had been burnt and fairly badly at that. Dresden tended not to use it, but there was some sort of subconscious movement going on. The left hand would clench, or touch the edge of the table, fingers tracing lines along the surface all without Dresden seeming to notice.

He spoke quietly, just loud enough to be heard clearly, and hadn't met the eyes of anyone for more than a few seconds. Dresden moved as though convinced he'd bump into something and knock down a wall if he did anything too quickly. If Rossi weren't with the BAU, if he didn't know that the only times they were called in was for serial cases, the baddest of the bad he would have chalked Dresden up to being shy and awkward with his size. Someone who had been told over and over as he grew up that he was a klutz and had never unlearned that fact. But he couldn't let himself think of it as such a simple, innocuous explanation.

"Unfortunately, no. Have you seen the news, lately? There've been six fires in the past month. All of them started in apartment buildings."

"I've heard. It's been all over the news and in the papers. Didn't six people die in the last one?"

"Yes. Which is why we've been called in. The local police believe that they have a serial arsonist working in the area. We're here to help stop him before he does it again."

"Oh, is _that_ why you're here talking to me?" Dark eyes flicked up to Rossi's and then away again, but he got the split second impression of mocking sarcasm in the tone and the slight quirk of an eyebrow. "I thought you were here because someone told the FBI that I was a dangerous whacko."

"Now, Mr. Dresden. Who would do that? Point the FBI at you if you're an innocent man?"

"Plenty of people. I'm not exactly universally popular, Agent Rossi. Can't understand why. I'm such an easy going and pleasant guy." Dresden smiled then, and looked up. His eyes focusing on a point just behind Rossi's right ear. "Not that I'm not enjoying the accommodations and the company, but could we get on with this? I've kind of got someplace to be in a few hours."

"We'll try and get this over with as quickly as possible. No one wants any more people to get hurt, right?"

"Right."

"So then. You work as a private detective in the area?"

"For about thirteen years now, yeah. I apprenticed under Nick Christian for three years before I opened up my own place."

"Yes. We've tried to contact Mr. Christian and haven't had any luck. Would you have any ideas as to where he is now?"

"Sorry, no. He moved out of town about five years ago. Retired. Haven't talked to him since then." Rossi made a non-commital noise and leaned forward, friendly.

"You recently acquired a partner in your business, a Ms. Karrin Murphy, is that correct? A former police sergeant as I understand."

"Yeah."

"This was after you'd been missing for nearly a year. You were involved in the attack on the FBI headquarters here in Chicago, right after your office building was blown up and about the time your old apartment was burnt to the ground. Then you vanish for a year."

"The FBI investigated the explosion at my office and found that there had been bombs laced through the whole building. They cleared me on that because there was no way I could have planted them. My house burned down because some crazy guy tossed a Molotov Cocktail at me. Everyone got out okay. And as I hear it they've never found whoever was trying to cook me." Dresden looked at him again, and there was something fierce in those dark eyes. "As for the FBI building, I was not 'involved' with the attack. I happened to be there when the attack happened. Talk to Agent Tilly. I was there trying to get my old girlfriend out."

"You have to admit the timing is...suspicious at best."

"Or it could just be that I have shitty luck."

"If that's true, you have the worst luck of anyone I've ever met. Things seem to catch on fire around you, Mr. Dresden. Not counting all of the explosions and fires in the week before you disappeared, we have four suspicious fires in town during your residency that we can place you at."

"Four?" Dresden's left hand drummed against the table. He finally noticed it and frowned. The drumming stopped. "Sorry. I don't know about four fires." Rossi flicked open the file on the table in front of him.

"We have the fire at the Varsity, which burned to the ground a few hours after you were seen having an altercation with the owner. The school didn't burn totally down, but there was extensive damage in the halls and the cafeteria. A warehouse near the docks lost most of it's roof in a blaze and had to be demolished later on. And the fire at Bianca St. Claire's residence that killed more than a dozen people."

"Ooohh... _those_ fires." Another small smile. "Well, I can't help it if Marcone's wiring was shoddy, or whatever. And it wasn't so much an altercation as it was a very loud disagreement. I was nowhere near any school that had a fire. Look at me. You think any teacher would let me on campus?" He waved a hand toward himself. "No clue about a warehouse either. The only time I'm near the water is to get on a friends boat. And I try not to do that too often any more."

"And the house fire?"

"I was there. It was a party. I don't know how the fire got started, but I was lucky to get out alive." He sighed and his left hand gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. "I'm sorry I couldn't help everyone get out. I tried, but I had to be dragged out myself. The smoke got me." Dresden coughed and turned his head to the side. Old pain clear in every line of his body.

"What about the fire that killed your father and sister?" He got the reaction he'd been looking for. Dresden jerked as if someone had just taken a stab at him, his body going tense and angry.

The soft voice was gone. Dresden didn't shout, but he didn't need to. The anger in his voice said more than volume ever could. "Elaine and Justin died in a fire. Yeah. I tried to get in there and save her and I couldn't get through the flames."

"You tried to save _her_. But not your father?"

"He wasn't my father! My father died when I was six. Of an aneurysm, before you try to blame me for that too. Justin adopted me and Elaine. And he was a fucking bastard. But I still would have pulled him out if I could have." Dresden's throat worked, swallowing hard. "I could see him. Through one of the windows. I saw him burn. We lived out in the country and there were no neighbors and no phones. I couldn't call for help. All I could do was-"

"Watch. Did you know that arsonists like to watch their work too. The fire...attracts them. They get burned on it, but they can't stop." Rossi stood and walked over to Dresden's side of the table, resting one hand on his shoulder. "It's not their fault, of course. They're sick. They can't help themselves. That's why we have to catch them."

"So you can 'help' them, right?" Dresden barked out a harsh laugh and pulled carefully away from Rossi. "I know how it looks. I do. But I'm not some psycho out there lighting people on fire."

"I wish I could believe you. I do. But-"

The door clicked open and Rossi's head jerked up. No one interrupted interrogations. Hotch was holding the door for the man who came bustling through. He was tiny. Maybe four and a half feet tall and whip thin, with wispy blonde hair that flew in every direction.

Dresden looked at the little man and then sighed, kicking his chair back to balance on the two rear legs. "Hiya Hector." Dresden waved laconically and then glanced up at Hotchner who remained in the doorway.

"David, this is Mr. Senesac. He's Mr. Dresden's attorney. He's here to escort him from the premises." Rossi raised his eyebrows in question. "We've been ordered to release Mr. Dresden here. He is no longer a suspect." Hotch emphasized the last sentence and Rossi understood. An order from on high then. But who did someone like Dresden know with enough clout to get the FBI called off?

"Well. This was fun." Dresden let his chair drop back onto all fours and pushed back from the table, rising until he towered over everyone else in the room. "Let's never see each other again."

They didn't follow him out of the building. Fifteen minutes after he left the interrogation room Rossi and Hotchner watched him stroll out onto the sidewalk in front of the station house. Less than a minute after his feet hit the pavement a large, dark green sedan pulled up to the curb, blatantly ignoring all the markings and signs telling it not to be there. A white SUV pulled in after it and parked.

The rear door of the sedan opened and a tall, well dressed man stepped out, his sunglasses glinting in the afternoon light. Dresden walked straight up to him and stabbed one long finger into his shoulder, wrinkling the expensive suit. The two began to argue, but their body language gave the lie to whatever words were being said. They weren't angry with one another. Not really. More...familiarly frustrated. And fond. It all had the air of old habit.

The little lawyer walked into view and the other man turned to him. They spoke a few words, Dresden leaning into the front passenger window as they did, speaking to the driver. As the lawyer shook hands with the older man and then left, the driver's side door of the SUV opened and a tall blonde man stepped out.

He stalked around the front of his car, head turning back and forth automatically, keeping track of everything around him. Finally, seemingly satisfied, he opened the rear passenger door and stepped to one side. A slender young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old slipped out, smoothing down her skirt as her driver shut the door behind her.

The two walked over to where Dresden and the other man stood beside the car. Dresden slouched against the sedan, jacket flapping around his ankles in the slight breeze. When he saw the girl a smile lit his face and he straightened, calling something out to her in obvious happiness.

"Can you believe that shit?" Rossi turned to see the little IA detective, Rudolph, had joined them and was staring down out of the window, his teeth grinding loud enough to be heard a foot away. "Right in front of the precinct! The fucking stones on those assholes."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know the kid or the other guy, but the rich looking fuck in the suit is 'Gentleman' Johnny Marcone. He's the local boss for the outfit. Slick fucker. Dresden works for him. Probably a hitter." Hotchner finally turned from the window.

"There's no evidence in any of your files of a connection between the two. Merely speculation."

"Yeah. Sure. You see a lot of honest citizens getting bailed out by a mob lawyer and picked up by the biggest asshole on the block? He's dirty. We just haven't caught him yet."

When they looked back out the window, Dresden and his friends were gone.

~

"He was spotted going into the parking garage five minutes ago." Prentiss nodded and flicked on her radio to relay the message to Hotchner and Morgan on the other side of the building. She heard Hotch's 'yes' and then a high-pitched scream of static burst out of the speaker before sparks shot out. She yelped and dropped it, pulling the rig off of her vest and throwing it to the concrete. Around her she could hear the other agents doing the same.

"The hell?" Prentiss started to jog over to the truck, to try her cellphone when there was a muffled explosion and a low, rolling cloud of fire shot out the entrance to the garage. Car alarms began to scream before they abruptly cut off or warbled inanely in a slowly fading circus of sounds. "Go!" She screamed it and the police around her moved, following her charge.

The smoke trailed out, black and thick as they ran forward, but a sudden wind slashed through the entrance. It knocked Prentiss off balance and she staggered. By the time she'd righted herself the smoke was almost completely gone, just a thin haze left in the air.

Her team met Hotch's on the first floor of the garage. He and Rossi were standing over a burnt lump in the middle of a scorched circle nearly ten feet across. As Emily drew closer, the smell of burnt flesh hit her, unmistakable for anything but human.

"Is it Dresden?"

"No." Rossi knelt down, well out of the blackened space and gestured at the corpse. "This guy's too short, for one. And he can't be much more than eighteen, nineteen years old. Not Dresden."

"Then where is he? He just murdered this kid!"

"We're searching. Calm down. No one's getting in or out of here tonight."

~

"How'd you do it?" Rossi leaned forward in the visitor's chair.

"Do what?" Dresden sat behind a desk sized like a buffet table, leaning back in the chair, hands clasped over his lean stomach.

"I saw you go into that parking garage. I saw you with my own eyes. But when that kid set himself on fire, you weren't there. How'd you do it?"

"I didn't. You must have been mistaken, Agent Rossi. I was nowhere near that apartment building. Why're you here, really? I saw the article this morning. Michael Rooney aged nineteen was your firebug. He messed up and lit himself on fire. A tragedy, no question. But I don't see what it has to do with me any more." Rossi sat back in his chair and looked around the office.

"Do you normally work out of someone elses' office, Mr. Dresden?"

"It's a loaner. Mine got blown up, remember? The owner of the health club was nice enough to let me rent this space from him for a little while. Again, what does that have to do with anything?"

"There was no accelerant. No match, no lighter, nothing. How was he planning on setting his fire? How did he set himself on fire?"

"Seeing as how I wasn't there, I have no idea."

"But if you had to guess."

"Guess?"

"From your expertise. Guess."

"Off the record?" Rossi nodded. He had no proof tying the young man to anything, and the 'hands off' order was still very much in effect. "If I had to guess, I'd say that a disturbed young man, someone who fits your idea of a 'pyromaniac' discovered he had an extra affinity for fire. This affinity, this talent, let him make fires when it should have been pretty impossible. But fire's not a forgiving element. One little slip and it'll take you too. But that's just a guess."

"I see." He didn't. Not really. None of it made any sense. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Dresden."

"Not at all. Now, if you'll excuse me." He rose and showed Rossi to the door. Once it opened the upbeat music of the exercise room came piping back to them. "I'm late for a dinner. And my date gets upset when I'm too late." Dresden took Rossi's hand in his and shook it. His flesh was cold, nearly icy to the touch. But when their eyes met, just the briefest of seconds, David could see a roiling wall of flame, carefully banked and controlled.


End file.
